Don't Leave Me (FrUK)
by Miriam Etingof
Summary: Arthur pretends he doesn't want anything to do with Francis, and deliberately tries to show the entire world that. But when Francis starts losing the metaphorical spring in his step, Arthur starts showing his true colors. But will he be too late?


Every day, at about the same time, Francis calls Arthur to see if he's up for going to a coffee shop for lunch. Arthur always declines, and hangs up right after he calls Francis a wanker. Francis then leaves his house, routinely, and gets on the bus. Arthur takes the same bus to work every morning, and gets on two stops after Francis, but never sits in the seemingly constantly empty seat next to him. Arthur gets off before Francis does, so he never knows (and he says he doesn't care) where Francis was going.

Following his daily routine, Arthur saw Francis on the bus, after having received a call from him inviting him to lunch. But today, Francis was looking weak and tired, and he was blankly staring out of the window. He was wearing a beret and the hood of his hoodie was up, covering most of his face. He didn't smile at Arthur today. Strange.

Over the course of a couple weeks, Francis' appearance was getting progressively worse. His skin lost it's rosy glow, and he no longer bothered to put on his everyday white suit and red dress shirt. Instead he wore sweatpants and a pair of old-looking trainers. Arthur was realizing that Francis was drifting farther and farther away from his usual self. He was starting to wonder, what's going on with Francis? Because of his crippling social awkwardness, Arthur wasn't going to get up and ask. But the grump really wanted to know if his friend was all right.

One day, Arthur didn't get a morning call from Francis. Arthur noticed this, and thought he slept through the call. He checked his watch and realized he had woken up at the same time he did the day before. _Strange_, he thought to himself, but swept any concern away with the assumption that Francis probably spent the night over at some girl's house, drunk off too much red wine. _I'll probably see the wanker on the bus today…. Nothing to worry about,_ Arthur thought. He put on his peacoat and plaid scarf, typical of a middle-class British man. He walked out into morning haze, onto a practically deserted street. He approached the bus stop just as the bus was pulling in.

Arthur walked up the steps, showed his bus pass to the driver, and turned into the isle of the bus. It began to rain. He looked up to check if Francis was there, which he wasn't. Arthur was beginning to worry for the frog's well-being. But being the person he is, he brushed off the thought with the same excuse he used for the absence of the lunch invitation that morning.

This continued for a couple days. Arthur became panicky and decided to call Francis. He hesitantly dialed the number, and heard the dial tone three times. A pretty, female voice answered.

"Bonjour, you've reached the Bonnefoy residence." Arthur immediately remembered that Francis lives alone.

"If you'd pardon my asking, but I'm one of Francis' good friends and I happen to know he lives alone. Who might this be?" Arthur semi-stuttered out of sheer worry. His hands began to shake. _What happened to Francis? Is he okay?_

"Oh, this must be Monsieur Arthur. Monsieur Francis is not here. I'm his landlady. He's been in the hospital for a week now, I think."

"Oh Jesus. Jesus Christ. Tell me, where might I find him?"

"Saint Peter's Hospital. He told me you might want to visit." Arthur almost heard the landlady's sympathetic smile through the phone.

"Thank you, Miss. I appreciate you help." Arthur hung up the phone with a violently shaking hand. He decided it would be best for him to go visit him… _what happened? How is he? What did he do? Is he hurt? _Questions endlessly crossed Arthur's mind. He couldn't stop thinking about Francis. It was too late to take the bus, so Arthur put on his nicer peacoat and gloves, grabbed his umbrella and walked outside. He turned his collar up against the wind. He stopped by the flower shop (which was still open, to Arthur's surprise) to buy some flowers for Francis. It seemed that his walk through the English rain was endless. He didn't feel the bitter cold, or the rain, or the wind. He just felt sorrow.

"How could I have ben so cruel to him? What if this whole hospital thing is a matter of life and death to him? Is he going to be okay? Oh, Jesus how could I have been so CRUEL to him? I never valued his presence, or his compassion. I never did accept his invitation for lunch, or sit with him on the bus. WHAT HAVE I DONE?!" Arthur talked to himself in the darkened, deserted streets. He stopped, collapsed and began to cry. Arthur never thought he would live to see the day where he himself had a reason to cry. After a couple minutes in an emotional heap on the wet asphalt, Arthur collected himself and kept going.

When he reached the reception desk at Saint Peter's, He approached the pretty receptionist.

"Hi, I'm here to visit Francis Bonnefoy? The name's Arthur Kirkland, I'm a close friend of his." Arthur muttered, wringing his hands.

"Just a moment sir…" The receptionist replied, quickly typing 'Francis Bonnefoy' into her computer. "A nurse will be here any minute to escort you to his room." Just then, another very pretty young lady in a nurses' uniform came and asked Arthur to follow her. Arthur nervously clutched the bouquet of pink roses he bought as he walked through the endless wards. The nurse turned a corner into a large lobby, and the door was labeled 'Oncology'.

_Oh god, no, no, please let this just be a stopping point… _Arthur thought. He knew what 'Oncology' meant. He just didn't want this to be happening.

The nurse opened a door with a replaceable sign that read 'Francis Phillippe Bonnefoy' and said "Right this way, sir." Arthur walked through the doorway and saw a limp, pale, bald Francis lying on the hospital bed.

"F-Francis…." Arthur began. "C-can you h-hear m-me? A-are you o-okay?" He had to fight tears that were making a persistent route to his eyes. Francis was hooked up to a bunch of fancy machines that were keeping him alive. He was a grayish color in the face, contrasting to his regular rosy glow, and his silky, dirty-blonde hair was completely gone. One could see the blue veins in his once healthy-looking hands. At the sound of Arthur's voice, Francis slowly opened his eyes and turned to look at who was talking to him.

"Arthur, how nice of you to come!" Francis' voice was weak and raspy, and he winced as if speaking was causing him pain.

"Oh, Francis I'm so glad that you're still alive! I'm so sorry I was so cruel. I don't know what I was thinking! To lose such a valuable friend like you would make my life miserable! Listen, you're going to come out of this okay… you understand….?" Arthur's voice trailed off as he saw Francis' look of sympathetic sadness and understood what he meant. "Oh Jesus, NO! I CAN'T LET YOU DIE!" Arthur gave up on holding his tears back. He collapsed by Francis' bedside and wept. He felt a warm hand touch the top of his head. Arthur looked up.

"They're putting me in a hospice starting tomorrow, assuming I live that long. I've had leukemia for a couple months now, and that's where I've been going every day. Chemotherapy. That's why I lost all of my famous silky hair. But the chemo stopped working, and I've come to terms with my impending death. I'm just so happy you decided to visit me in my last couple days." Francis said sadly and quietly as he looked at Arthur's red and blotchy post-crying face.

"I-I'll organize your funeral. I'll make it beautiful, just like you. And I'll host a memorial every year. I promise. I just wanted to tell you…" Arthur placed the bouquet of roses onto Francis' chest, leaned down, and gently kissed the sick man's lips. "I love you, Francis Phillipe Bonnefoy."

"And I love you, Arthur William Kirkland…" The little clock that stood on the windowsill struck midnight, just as Francis' eyes were closing.

"No, no Francis please, don't die now. PLEASE Francis, just hold on a bit longer. Francis, I BEG YOU, DON'T LEAVE ME, PLEASE!" Arthur started crying again.

It was too late. The heart rate monitor went blank. Francis was gone.

Arthur adhered to his promise. He adorned Francis' grave with little stone roses, everlasting flowers he made as a symbol of their eternal love. In the corner of the granite headstone, Arthur wrote 'Francis Phillipe Bonnefoy, the eternal love of my life. Someday, we'll meet again. Signed


End file.
